


Let's Investigate Our Distance

by thalialunacy



Series: Frat Boy [8]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: M/M, Phone Sex, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-17 10:33:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/550621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thalialunacy/pseuds/thalialunacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris talks Karl into phone sex somehow. He's not really sure how.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Investigate Our Distance

**Author's Note:**

> **References** : [this photoset](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/thalialunacy/1077284/1246204/1246204_original.png) of Karl, shot by [Patrik Giardino](http://www.giardinophoto.com/) & released Septemberish.  
>  **Notes** : Prompted by & written for norfolkdumpling, who came up with about a hundred different awesome scenarios for Urbine phonesex. This is not one of them, lol, but I hope it will suffice. ^^ The title is my interpretation of some song lyrics, but I’m pretty sure I’ve heard it wrong so I’m not going to say which one lolol.  
>  **Disclaimer** : I don’t know these people, and I don’t claim to. So please, _please_ don’t sue me. And don’t be hatin, we just like the fuckin.

"Rude."

"Beg pardon?" Karl huddles the phone closer to his shoulder, half his brain focused on not dropping a dish mid-wash.

"Rude, Karl. Rude."

"I don't follow."

He can hear Chris poking at his laptop. "Oh, I dunno. Just got an email this morning with some pictures in it."

"And? Is Quinto sending you gay porn again?"

"In a manner of speaking."

And Karl, for some reason, can follow this train of thought; proof he's been sleeping with Pine for far too long. He pauses, lowering the dish for a moment, and makes an exhale-y sort of 'Oh' noise. "The Giardino shoot."

"Yeah, fuck yeah, the Giardino shoot. What the hell, Karl?"

"You don't like it?"

Chris practically growls; Karl can imagine him vibrating with energy like he does when he's got hold of an idea. "I was late for work, asshole."

Karl's grin is big enough to be heard, he's sure. "Merry Christmas?"

"It's still practically summer."

"Welcome to my world."

Chris clicks his tongue in surprise. "Well-played."

"Thanks."

"Still. Rude."

"I didn't _force_ you to be late for work."

"Karl."

"What."

"Kneeling."

"But--"

"Kneeling, Karl."

"Contextually--"

" _Kneeling_."

Karl resists the urge to knock his head against the wall. "You're impossible. It was an action shoot." Chris's snort gets eye-rolled and steam-rolled. "It wasn't sexy and it wasn't pornographic."

"Oh yeah?" Karl _knows_ that tone of voice; he girds his loins. "What if it was me?"

And the air oomphs out of Karl's gut. "Uh."

He doesn't have to see the fist pump he knows Chris just did. "Owned!"

Denial. Karl's paddled this river before; it's comfy. "Don't know what you mean."

There's a pause, and a rustling noise. Karl cocks an eyebrow at the sink, then picks up the dish again before Chris continues speaking. "Oh, you don't, do you?"

"Nope," Karl says casually. "If it were you, I'd just think, 'he's been in an action film, he's--'"

"Incredibly fit, wearing incredibly well-tailored clothes, and kneeling, Karl. Imagine. If it were me."

The picture kind of explodes into Karl's mind, and the dish may or may not slip out of his suddenly distracted fingers. The splash almost reaches his phone, and he jerks back reflexively. He refocuses in time to hear Chris laughing. "Oh, shut up," he mutters.

"You capitulating?"

"You done using SAT words?"

"Never."

"Well, then."

"Come on, Karl. You have to know how hot those pictures are."

He can feel himself _blushing_. This kid. For the love of God. "I know no such thing."

There's more rustling. "Well," Chris says, and his tone is almost reasonable, "I suppose you don't, when they're of yourself. That'd be kind of solipsistic."

"Seriously? You can't just say 'self-centered'?"

"So I'll have to tell you what I see, and you'll just have to use your imagination. Because those pictures are fucking hot, I don't care who you are." He makes a grunty noise, like he's settling back in his chair. Couch, probably. "There's this gorgeous guy in them, to start with. Let's talk about that for a minute. You been doing yoga? Because it looks like you have, all clean leaning lines and angles."

Karl has to swallow. "A little," he manages.

"Thought so. Which is another great image altogether, not gonna lie. You must've been incredibly flexible." He pauses for a moment. "Please say you've kept up with it."

_Now I sure as hell will_ , Karl thinks. "A little," he says again.

"Well, thank fuck for that." Chris exhales, a whoosh of static on the line. "So I see this gorgeous guy, this gorgeous guy who is clearly in amazing shape." His voice lowers a little, enthusiasm turning into intensity. "And there's the added bonus that I know it's the top shape of his life because I know exactly what lies under those expensive clothes. And I see something that was already fucking fantastic has become even more awesome, which didn't really seem possible but who am I to judge?"

"Chris..."

"So there he is, and I can just picture him without the clothes, _want_ to picture him without the clothes because I want to feel the differences for myself, to run my hands over all the lines and see what's changed and what's stayed the same, see if he still reacts the same way when I touch him, when I..." There's a heated inhale, a very familiar sound.

Karl stills, the dish wholly forgotten.

"Christopher Pine, are you--" But he can't finish the sentence.

"Maybe," Chris answers, but his voice has this rough quality that Karl knows all too well.

"You _are_."

Chris merely clears his throat. "So he's there, and he's gorgeous, and he's-- and he's--" Chris pauses, breathes in. "He's fucking _kneeling_."

"Shit," Karl curses under his breath as he fumbles the dish. It kerplunks gently into the soapy water.

"And you're already swearing, excellent," Chris says, quietly triumphant. "You're ready for this. I'm ready for this. We doing this?"

"Absolutely not, we are not doing anything."

"Nobody's home, right?"

"Not the point."

"Karl..." And his voice is wheedling, true, but only the merest undertone amongst the smoky richness of aroused Pine, which is just unfair. Karl's not hard, but with the right incentive, he could get there pretty-- "Kneeling, Karl..." 

Quickly. Pretty quickly.

"Kneeling, back to you, presented to you for the taking, ready to do whatever you want. But only because it's you."

Karl finds his more-dry hand pressed against the zipper of his jeans, and huffs out a laugh. "Only, sure."

"Yeah, for sure. Nobody else gets this side, this much..." Chris clears his throat; there's some more rustling. "You know."

_Yeah_ , Karl thinks. Because he does know. "Whatever I want?"

Chris makes a noise of assent. He's all... grunty. Karl can almost feel it against his neck. He presses the heel of his hand down a little harder. "Yeah, hell yeah. He'd probably bend over for you right there, if you wanted."

Jesus. "Oh. Well. That'd be nice."

Chris's chuckle is liquid. "More than nice, shit. You bend him over and get your tongue in there and he will be toast."

Karl groans, his eyes sliding shut and his zipper sliding down. "Yeah," he agrees roughly, "more than." He has a weakness for this kid, he thinks as he slips his hand into his pants, and he kind of doesn't mind. "I would hope that's not the end of his run, though."

Chris lets out a shaky noise. "No, no, he can bounce back. Pretty sure."

"All right, good." Karl palms himself, easily coxing his cock to legitimate interest. "Bounce back, maybe turn around...?"

"And suck your cock like a pro? Fuck yeah." The last is quite heavy with arousal. "Shit, yeah, I--he loves it, could do it for hours."

And Karl gives up, right there, and the soapy water works well enough as long as he does it right. "Nah, mate," he says, "won't need hours."

"Oh thank fuck," Chris groans out, "because I really, really want you to fuck me."

Karl feels the words, the tone, roll over him like a wave, moving his hand faster, clutching his gut and his balls. “Yeah?”

“Jesus yes, Karl.” Karl can hear the slick sounds on Chris’s end, and it somehow just makes it all the more hot. Like he can close his eyes and imagine they’re in the same room. “I love it when you fuck me, all tanned gorgeous Kiwi rising up like a god, pushing into me, knocking me on my ass—figuratively speaking—every damn time.”

“That first moment,” Karl agrees breathlessly, feeling the pleasure spiral through his ribcage. “It’s my favourite, too—oh, fuck—”

“It’s fucking fantastic, no lie. And then it just gets even better, you bending me over, or backwards, or— Or anything, fuck.”

Or spooning him up from the side, he didn’t have to say. Karl knows, and he loves it too. So much. “So fucking much,” he murmurs, not making sense but not caring. He can feel it, right in the base of his spine, as his hand works his cock determinedly. “Chris—”

“Yeah, I know. Me too—oh Jesus fuck Karl I’m gonna come, just from thinking about you and that perfect cock, perfect mouth, perfect everything.”

And Karl can’t help the onslaught of his orgasm at that; how is he really supposed to? “Yeah, fuck, yeah—” Their choked-off endearments mirror each other, nearly incomprehensible but there all the same, and Karl just lets it go, lets the pleasure wash through him, realizing somewhere in the back of his mind that he’s probably dirtying the dish he just washed, and not caring one bit.

It’s not the best orgasm he’s ever had, but it’s nice, and it’s relaxing, and he can hear Chris’s breathing steadying on the other end of the line, and he’s happy.

“Fuck, Karl,” Chris says quietly after a moment. “I miss you.”

“Yeah,” Karl says back, feeling the distance between them keenly. “Me too.”

There’s movement, and then the phone seems pressed closer to Chris’s mouth. “Good.”

Karl chuckles as he puts himself to rights. “Good? That’s low, even for you.”

Chris exhales contentedly, and Karl’s pretty sure he’s laid down on the couch. Chris tends to pass out after sex, and masturbation is probably no exception. “Just means that next time I see you, you’ll be… more susceptible to suggestion.”

Karl shakes his head, but he can’t stop the surge of curiosity. “I’m not even going to ask.”

“Just, make sure we’re somewhere with carpets on the floor, is all I’m saying. Or buy kneepads.”

Karl makes a noise. “Oi! You’re such a pervert!”

“And you love it. Goodnight, Karl. Or, good evening. Whatever.” There’s a lip-smacking noise, and it’s clear he’s about to fall asleep right there.

Karl rolls his eyes. “Fine. Goodnight.” He’s about to hang up, when: 

“Thank you.” Chris’s voice is rough with sleep, thick with affection. “It’s not anything close to the real thing, but… thank you.”

Karl presses his lips together, his neck still pink. “Go to sleep, Pine.”

“Mkay.”

Then the dial tone is rich in his ear. And the happiness is writ large across his face.

**_fin_ **


End file.
